


The Blackbird and the Dove

by ArthursKnight



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, medieval setting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2018-12-18 04:42:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11866959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArthursKnight/pseuds/ArthursKnight
Summary: Late 1300s A.C., Italy.After the weather mercilessly doesn't allow people to work, peasants turn into criminals. One of them is Merle, who since a young age has been taking care of himself and his younger brother Daryl. Although he's quite good at it, his latest smuggling doesn't go as expected and he makes an encounter that may change his life forever.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, I am back with another fic! I'm prolific these days.
> 
> This will be a multi-chaptered story. My family comes from a tiny village in the South of Italy. I saw some of the ancient places and got inspired to write this story, thanks to little sneaky passages in between and under houses with basically no light, a big Ducal Castle, and just a huge medieval vibe.
> 
> Additional tags will be added as we go, as I never know where I am going with my fics.
> 
> As always, English is NOT my first language: point out mistakes, but do so politely. 
> 
> I want to thank @Faeylinn on tumblr for beta-ing this work!
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THESE CHARACTERS AND DO NOT MAKE MONEY OUT OF THIS WORK. ALL RIGHTS TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the image in this chapter has been commissioned to @iamthehelperdog on tumblr

 

_1345 ca. (to the Chiesella)_

 

Merle ran up the empty street to the little church on the top of the hill the little village was built on. The sunrise brightened its white walls, making the bronze plate on top of it shine. Merle couldn't read what was written on it, but he found himself staring at it with his mouth wide open.

The ten year old admired the massive wood door for a moment, then entered the tiny place with his head bowed. His parents forced him to go to mass, but he didn’t believe a God was there. And if He was actually there, He was a cruel deity. Merle shook his head vehemently. He was in God’s home now, no blasphemy or He wouldn’t help.

Benches were set in front of an altar, giving the space for around forty believers to attend mass, but at this hour the church was completely empty, apart from the statue of Lady Mary, stabbed with seven blades and with a pained expression on her beautiful face, her hair covered in a blue veil that reminded Merle of his mother's own. There were some paintings of saints on the walls, saints Merle didn't recognize but hoped would've helped him too.

His mother was going to give birth to what, Merle was sure, was going to be a healthy boy. She had aborted a lot of other times, almost dying in the process, but Merle was convinced this time was going to be different.

Head still bowed, he looked to the corridor on the side of the altar to make sure no one was there and then fell on his knees on one of the benches. The boy knew he had to be fast, his father would soon wake and he had to go to work with him, but this was too important.

Merle rose his hands to the sky and after reciting the Pater Noster he spoke: “Almighty God, if you are even here… Ahem. Of course you are. I’m sorry” he bit his upper lip. “I’m here to beg you, and I don’t do it usually. My mom drinks too much alcohol, my dad beats her too much, and it brought to her aborting so many children! She’s lucky she is even alive herself. But now she is pregnant again...” Merle sighed, rising his eyes to look at Lady Mary. “Mom said that if the child survives I can name him. I hope it’s a little boy, so I’ll call him Daryl. Mom is French, and Daryl means ‘beloved’ in her language...” he cleared his throat as he tugged at his light shirt. “Well, I guess you know. But what I want to say is... if you let me have a little brother, I promise you he’ll truly be beloved, I’ll never leave him alone and I’ll take care of him. I promise...”

 

_1385 ca. (somewhere in the village, near the Ducal Castle)_

 

__

 

Merle’s breath condensed in front of him. Goosebumps covered his arms, and he tried to warm himself up by furiously rubbing his skin. The peasant tugged at the hem of his thin tunic, wishing he could afford some warmer clothes. It was a rare thing to have snow falling in this village, almost a miracle. Well, at least he could say to have witnessed one now. Even if it was more of a damnation. Snow meant no working in the fields, and no working meant no money to eat.

Little snowflakes fell on the ground just to melt right away, and Merle observed them with fascination as he hid into the dark passage. He took some in his mouth, humming gladly at having something in between his teeth after days of no eating. Some meat would’ve been better, though.

The fresh smell of snow covered the pungent one of piss, for which Merle was extremely grateful. It covered his own stinking as well, a thing that would make the theft easier.

He lowered himself, knees close to his chest. The shadows covered him, and his dark green clothes blended just fine with the musk covered walls, but there was no being too careful with this. If he was found, they would kill him. And he needed the money and whatever else he could find for Daryl and himself. He’d made a promise years ago to protect his brother and take care of him, and for that he needed to feed him and keep him alive.

Someone finally entered the passage and Merle jumped on them. He took his knife from the stealth and pointed it at the stranger’s throat, noticing too late the shining of an armor. He managed to hit the pectoral and get a grunt from the man and an angry “What in the name of God...” before the stranger pushed him against the wall of the tiny passage. The soldier grabbed Merle’s hair and tugged it, getting a yelp from him. “Damn you” he muttered, punching the other man in the guts. The stranger growled angrily, and Merle was sure it was just because he was annoyed by the assault and not because the hit had actually hurt him. Merle let out a ragged breath as he tightened the grip of the dagger and went for a strike to the chest, but the soldier grabbed his wrist and hit him in the face with the back of his hand.

Merle fell on his knees, tightening his jaw. The man shoved Merle’s head against the wall, and Merle felt tears prickling in his eyes. “I won’t beg you. Just kill me.”

The man kept quiet and just dragged him out in the snow.

Merle blinked, adjusting to the different light, and found himself staring at the face of a warrior angel, the light of a single lamp behind him forming a halo around his pretty face. Another thing he could be killed for, if he said it out loud.

The angel finally spoke, his voice quiet and dangerous at the same time: “What do you think you were doing?” there was disgust in his tone, and Merle couldn’t blame him. His armor was shiny and polished, his beard well trimmed and his face clean. What could he think of Merle, with his dirty and sweaty curls, his skin ruined by working too much in the sun and the signs of malnourishment showing on his face? He suddenly felt rage. This man was probably one of those stuck-up nobles.

“I was trying to get food.” he grunted. “Not that you’d know what that means...” Merle tried to get up, but the man put a foot on his chest.

“Such insolence” Merle heard the clicking of the noble’s tongue against his palate. “And you thought this was a good way?” the soldier sneered, pointing at the knife that had fallen next to Merle. “Honest work is not a thing anymore, peasant?”

“Not with the snow…” Merle looked away. If he could've moved, he would have shrugged. His breath was weaker by the minute, and his body ached all over. The need to eat had given him temporary force, energy that had disappeared too soon. Merle wanted to go back to Daryl, but even rising an arm against his opponent required too much effort.

The angel warrior’s brows rose up. “Ah, I see” he said, and leaned on him. “That's why you look like you haven't eaten in a while.”

Merle forced himself to grin. “Got a way with compliments, uh?” his head was dizzy and he just wanted to keep quiet and sleep.

Merle could see the other man frowning and hear him ask “What's wrong?” before he closed his eyes and everything went black.

 

_(servants’ quarters, Ducal Castle)_

 

Rick sat next to the simple bed, observing with tired eyes the man sleeping on it. The peasant was badly malnourished, but Rick could see the handsome features he could have if he ate decently. He wondered for the hundredth time why he had brought the man here instead of leaving him to die. Pity, maybe. Or guilt. The populace was starving because of nobles, and this man was the proof sent to him by God.

Rick and the servant girl Michonne had managed to get some broth into the criminal during the few times he was conscious, and he looked much better. They had gotten out of him that his name was Merle, and he kept babbling about a younger brother. Rick knew French, and ‘blackbird’ didn’t seem to be a fitting name for the man. He had the most stunning blue eyes and he bet that if his hair were cleaner it would’ve bedecked his visage like a crown.

“ _Vossignoria”_ Michonne’s rich voice brought him out of his thoughts. She had a disapproving expression on her face, just like every time he did something she didn’t approve of, but he couldn’t bring himself to put the servant woman in her place. “The man you brought here is awake.”

Rick’s head shot up to look at tired steel blue eyes. “Merle?”

“Warrior angel...”

The noble blinked. “What?” he leaned on the peasant, frowning, but the man didn’t repeat what he said. His chest rose and lowered with fatigue.

“Where am I? I need to get home… My brother...” Merle tried to get up, just to fall down on the cushion again.

“You need to rest and eat” Michonne shook her head. She helped him sit up, putting the cushion behind his back, and put a bowl of broth in front of Merle, who observed it like God Almighty had smacked him.

“I-I can’t pay for this” Merle took a piece of meat in his hands, biting his lips.

Rick hoped his smile was reassuring. He was more than irritated at the man’s mannerism, but he reminded himself Merle wasn’t a noble. He didn’t know what manners were. “To answer your question, you are at the Duke’s castle. The servant’s quarters, of course” he shrugged. “My name is Riccardo, but you can call me Rick.” getting up, he clasped Merle’s shoulder. “You don’t have to pay for it. You made pretty clear you can’t...” he sighed.

“Rick? Rick?! You nobles need to stick to our language. Speaking English or French will just make the people hate you more!” Merle growled.

Rick’s brows shot up. “Your name is French.”

“My mother was French… Sir.” Merle averted his eyes, lowering them to the ground, like he had just understood who he was talking to.

“Ah. I understand” Rick nodded. He noticed Merle hadn’t eaten anything yet, so he forced the bowl closer to the peasant. “Eat up.”

Merle didn’t let him repeat the words. He wolfed down everything, swallowing the broth with loud sounds that made Rick’s lips curl in a disgusted expression. The peasant eyed the empty container with his head tilted to the side. He reminded Rick of a hungry puppy.

Michonne was standing uncomfortably next to the noble, caressing her cotton dress. Rick heard her whisper “That could’ve been me...” before she took the bowl out of Merle’s hands. When Rick signaled her to exit the room, Michonne bowed and left so fast Rick was scared she was going to run.

“Listen, Merle...” Rick found himself at loss of words. He wanted to help the poor man, and he knew Lori would get angry at him for this. The soldier shook his head, understanding he didn’t care. Nobles were dying of gout and fatness, for eating too much while people like Merle couldn’t even eat a sure meal every day. “I see you need honest money. Both you and your brother you keep talking about. So, I’ll make you an offer.”

Merle tightened his eyes, crossing his arms in front of his chest like to protect himself. He nodded, making clear he was listening.

“You seem like a good fighter and tough enough to work, if you eat right, that’s it… I bet your brother could do too. So, what do you say of becoming servants of my household?”

Merle kept silent, pursing his lips. After a while, Rick was ready to speak up and call him ungrateful, but he was preceded by Merle. “I have to talk to my brother first… But I thank you for the offer.”

“I can send someone to call for him” Rick got closer to Merle’s face. “You shouldn’t refuse.” he could see Merle had read a warning in his words by the way he tried to make himself smaller and stray from him.

“F-fine...”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the plot thickens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So chapter two is ready!  
> Are ya liking it?
> 
> Thanks to @faeylinn over at Tumblr for beta-ing this chapter!

_1355 ca. (Aquanova area)_

 

The afternoon sun illuminated the peaks of the houses surrounding the little square. The Ducal Castle overhung all in sight with its ugly gray stones.

Daryl observed the stands selling food and other necessities. The sellers didn't want him or Merle close to their goods, even if Daryl knew Merle only stole some fruit to feed him. They had always struggled to put food into their stomachs. The boy kicked a stone in front of him and turned around.

His older brother sat next to the fountain, his blue eyes brightened by the hard sun. He had around twenty winters, but his hollow cheeks and sad eyes made him look way older. Dirty, greasy curls adorned his thin face. _If guardian angels are real, Merle’s mine._ Daryl thought. _An angel who fell just to come here and protect me_.

Merle had a piece of stale bread in between his hands and was eating it slowly, like to savor it. His muddy clothes hung too large on his body. Daryl ran to him and jumped on the fountain edge. He knew that the signs carved on it were Latin letters, and that it was important for some reason, but he didn’t care much. “You shouldn’t eat it. The lady didn’t even give it to you, she threw it on the ground in front of you. We ain’t dogs.”

“We are to her,” Merle licked his dry lips, eyeing the people around him to make sure no one heard them. “Pride isn’t going to get you anywhere, little brother. Learn your place.” he put the last bit of bread into his mouth and walked away, so Daryl followed him with his head bowed.

“Why can’t we be like them?” Daryl frowned. “Noble kids have perfect hands and a well-fed body, while we have dirty, calloused skin and don’t even know if tomorrow, we will be still breathing. Do you really think they wake in the middle of the night to work like you do? Or that they have to bring stuff around for richer people like I do? They aren’t worried about not working for a day. Merle, damn it, you’re already a foot into the grave just to make sure we eat... It’s so unfair.”

Merle kept quiet for a while, his head tilted as he thought of an answer. He pursed his lips, and his gaze darkened before he said: “Daryl… God is the one who decides. Some people were born to be nobles, some to be poor. We were just unlucky...”

“I don’t believe that” the boy answered. “And I know you don’t, either.”

His older brother sighed. “You talk too much for your own good, Daryl.”

“So do you.” Daryl smirked as Merle turned to face him. They locked eyes, and Daryl could finally see a bit of life in his brother’s. He ran away, Merle behind him.

“Just wait till I get to you, insolent brat!” Merle laughed and soon their screams of joy filled the streets.

They arrived in the alley where the shack they shared with their parents stood. Both brothers stopped laughing as they observed their home eaten by flames.

 

_1385 ca. (Ducal Castle)_

 

Merle stripped down and sat down in the tub. He shivered as the cold water enfolded him, taking some of the dirt off his body. Michonne handed him a piece of soap, that the man grabbed with a grimace.

“I could’ve just gone to the river” the peasant muttered. Sighing, he rubbed his skin violently, getting as much mud and dead skin off himself.

“Remember to wash your hair” the woman clicked her tongue against her palate. “And doing it here is better. Washing in the river won’t make you at least presentable. You’re not just a peasant now, you are a servant.” Michonne put some cleaner clothes on a nearby chair, and Merle observed how her dress shaped around her butt, then the woman left.

“Hey! What’s your problem?” Merle yelled after her, but she was already gone. There was a faint noise of chatting coming from outside the Castle, but the man didn’t pay attention on it. He kept on washing himself, taking his time with his curls, then got out. Little puddles of water formed under his feet, and he felt cleaner that he’d ever been. Merle smiled. _Food into my belly, clean clothes. May get used to this_.

He heard a knocking sound coming from one of the walls, so he turned only to find nothing. A female voice whispered “Be careful! Beware, and observe!”. Merle looked around to see if Michonne was back, but that wasn’t the black woman’s voice. The knocking repeated into the opposite wall, then there was a faint rustle of clothing and steps withdrawing.

“What?” Merle squinted his eyes, searching for his dagger. It wasn’t where the peasant left it. “Damn it...” when everything became silent again, Merle shook his head and started dressing. He kept searching for the source of the noise, yet the room was empty. _A ghost is really what I need right now, uhm?_ While he put the linen breeches on, savoring the nice sensation it gave him, the door opened to reveal his owner. Merle bowed his head, looking furtively at the man.

“How are you liking it?” Rick smirked. His eyes trailed down Merle’s body, and the villain quickly put the shirt on, trying to hide from him. _What, he likes to look at poor people’s ribs?_

Merle swallowed an irritated sound. “Yes, sir.” He avoided looking at the man and finished preparing himself, putting on a dark green hose and a matching knee-length tunic. The pointy shoes were pretty ugly, but he put them on anyway. As he secured all of it with a belt, Rick spoke again.

“Your brother is waiting for you. The man made a good decision, accepting my offer without a second thought when my people told him” the noble patted his richly decorated red tunic to take off some dust. Merle thought he could see little doves embroidered in it, so he fixed himself on those instead of answering to the insinuation. “He doesn’t look as dirty as you were though...”

“I make sure he is presentable.” Merle retorted, tightening his jaw. _Dumb rich thinking everyone has access to this kind of stuff…_

“Sure you do.” Rick patted Merle’s shoulders like he was trying to tame a rabid dog, then headed them out of the bathing room.

Merle kept looking back, replaying in his mind the words he heard. He felt sweat fall down his temple. “Beware of what?” he mumbled.

“What?” Rick turned to face him, a frown appearing on his face. “What did you say?”

“Nothing” Merle shook his head, looking at the ground. _Observe what? Am I going crazy?_

“I heard you. Who told you that?” the noble’s eyes were harsh, his lips turned down in a grim expression. Rick grabbed him, and Merle could feel his fingers into his skin.

“I-I don’t know.”

“Stop lying to me, you impertinent peasant!” Rick screamed. He raised his arm, ready to strike Merle, but stopped mid-air. “Tell me.”

Merle struggled to get out of Rick’s grip to no avail. “I told you… Sir.” he pursed his lips, wondering if he could lie, but decided otherwise. “I don’t know. And I’m serious. It’s just a weird voice that spoke to me, or something like that...”

“The ghost.” Rick’s face went blank. “The ghost spoke to you.”

“What ghost?” Merle asked. The noble ignored him and kept walking. Merle asked himself if it was worth asking again, but when he saw the man didn’t stop he ran after him.

 

_(Duke’s personal chambers)_

 

Philip sat at the desk into his small studio. Writing this letter was of extreme importance, and having it delivered was essential. _It can’t get in the wrong hands, or this will be my end._ He put down his quill to look out. From the high window he could see everything that happened outside, and the Duke let his eyes linger on the garden. Few people were there, workers doing their job. Creatures of no importance. His fingers played with the decorated dagger next to him, but he knew he couldn’t kill the king by himself.

“ _Vossignoria_?” one of the secret passages opened to reveal his spaniard spy. The man had a cut on his brow, but seemed unharmed.

“Caesar! Why are you here so early? You were supposed to come here tonight” Philip growled. He got up, then leaned on the back of his chair. “And what happened to cause that?”

Caesar checked all entrances before standing in front of the Duke. “We had a few problems with bandits on the way last night. Nothing to worry about, sir.” the spaniard scratched his beard. “And I’m here because the Baron gave me a message for _Vossignoria.”_ Caesar gave him the folded paper.

“Are you sure they were only bandits?” Philip tried to stay calm, even though he wanted to stab the spy right there. He snatched the fine letter from the other man’s hands, putting it under a stack of books to read late. Facing Caesar, the Duke crossed his arms. “I don’t like to have problems.”

“Yes, my lord. We killed all of them and checked. They didn’t have the king’s ensign nor the one of people loyal to him anywhere.” Caesar stepped back with a worried expression, like if he had sensed the noble’s intentions.

“I hope you are right. We cannot fail” Philip sighed. He took the letter from the desk, folded it two times and handed it to Caesar. “You know who to bring this to.”

“Yes, sir.” the paper disappeared into one of the hidden folds of the spy’s tunic. When the man went away, Philip checked all entrances again to be safe. He let one the servants girls outside that he didn’t want to be disturbed and tried to sit down.

A sudden scream made him shoot his head up. The papers he had on his desk all fell on the ground, and he managed to catch the letter Caesar had given him before it flew out of the window. “Stop it, stupid prostitute!” Philip snarled. That peasant woman had become even more of a menace after he had killed her. And several blessings from a priest had done nothing to make her go to hell where she belonged. _Damn you_ , _Andrea._

The furniture cracked and one of the heavy wardrobes fell on the ground a few inches from him. “I said stop it!”

Everything went quiet. Philip took a long breath, fixing his clothes to regain some self-control even though no one but Andrea was there.

“Finally.” he settled on the chair, legs on the desk, and started reading the Baron’s letter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what did you think?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We learn more about the ghost, and Merle had difficulty adapting to the Castle rules

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, thanks to @faeylinn on Tumblr for the beta-ing.
> 
> I am sorry for the delay in this, but I had a lot of struggles with this chapter and personally, and the research for such a story is immense.

_1365 ca. (Ducal Castle)_

 

A lightning strike illuminated the bedroom as if it were daytime. The rain poured down from the sky, flooding the streets that Rick could see from the window. Not a soul was in sight, not a torch was turned on. A white noise roared in his ears, replacing the usual cacophony of people roaming around and doing their duties. He extended his arm to catch some of the raindrops, until the wind changed direction, bringing the rain into the small place. A poodle formed around Rick, wetting his new boots. “Oh, damn it,” he sighed, as he turned around to glare at his interlocutor.

“It looks like God Almighty wants to punish this useless village!” Shane yawned and rolled his eyes. “And here we were, wishing tomorrow would be sunny to go for a ride.” The Irishman took off his feet from the table, staring at the chess game they were playing. Shane’s eyes shone with the angry light they always took when the man got drunk. With a grimace, the knight moved a pawn right where his opponent could take it. Rick smirked as he noticed his friend’s mistake, but his happiness was short-lived as he watched his friend gulp down another cup of wine.

“May as well be,” Rick shrugged. “It’s the first time it rains in a month. The populace is angry.” Both noblemen snorted at that. “And anyway,” Rick continued, “aren’t you tired from the travel?”

“I miss Ireland already,” Shane said, nodding. He stood, leaning against the table to steady himself. “Well... I better go to bed.”

After a noisy yawn, he stumbled to the door.

“Wait,” Rick sighed. “I’ll accompany you. You’re in no shape to roam around the castle!”

“Are you implying I can’t fight for myself?” Shane growled, throwing himself at Rick. He took a wrong step and fell forward, so Rick had to grab him before he hit his face on the ground. “Darn it.”

“I am implying you can’t even walk, let alone fight.” Rick gently patted his fellow knight’s shoulder, trying to calm him.

“Fine!” Shane’s shout reverberated on the walls, making both men jump in surprise.

Rick shook his head, tightening his jaw. _A knight should always control himself, yet Shane never does!_ With a grunt, Rick put the man’s arm around his neck and helped him out of his room and into the corridor.

The torches’ faint light allowed for the two of them to only see a few of their steps at a time. Rick frowned. The fires on the sticks were dimmed out as if the darkness around it ate the flames. _What the...? Oh, come on._ A small smile crept on his lips. _You drank too much, you stupid fool. That’s the wine taking a toll on you._ He rolled his eyes and kept walking to Shane’s room.

The constant ticketing of the drops of water in the crawlspaces insinuated itself into Rick’s mind, stressing the seconds that passed as they walked up a staircase and into another corridor. _Isn’t there a method of torture involving the noise water makes as it drops? Mmh. I understand why it works now._ After a while, even the sound of his own steps disappeared in favor of the drops made against the surfaces.

The knight sniffed, letting the cold and musky scent of rain and stone to invade his nostrils.

“There we are,” Rick stopped in front of a heavy wooden door. It was open, yet the man was sure it wasn’t supposed to be. _Eh. Shane probably left it open._ He brought his friend inside and dumped him on his bed, then turned to leave and get some sleep.

A shadowy figure stood into the doorframe, observing him. A bright light came from behind her back, enfolding her in a halo.

“Who’s that? One of the servants?” Rick blinked. He tensed his neck to look at the stranger’s face better.

The woman took a step forward. “Riccardo.” A lightning flashed outside, allowing the man to see the woman’s face. Her pale lips curled into a soft smile as she reached out to him with scarred hands.

“How do you know my name?” Rick frowned. The woman was dressed as a servant, but her clothes were ripped and dirty. _How dare a peasant use my name?_

“I know every person that works for that buffoon I used to love.”

“I don’t understand,” Rick tried to surpass her to go away, irritated with her insolence; the woman touched him, her hands passed through his skin, and he felt an intense cold spread in his chest.

“Wait.” She whispered. “I need to tell you something extremely important.”

“Who the hell are you?” his eyes widened.

“My name is Andrea, but that has no importance now. It never had. Listen to me, Riccardo of the cadet branch of the Sanseverino’s.”

“I shall...” Rick pursed his lips. _This Andrea seems to know me. Yet... What she did... Is she a witch?_

“I am not a witch, Riccardo.” The woman shook her head, a disappointed expression on her face. “I once was human. Now I am nothing but a lost soul.”

“What do you want from me?” Rick raised his hand to touch her cheek. Her transparent skin looked more and more impalpable by each second that passed.

“Warn you. Beware of the duke, young dove.” The ghost’s empty eyes fell on the little doves embroidered on his doublet, and she smirked. “And when the blackbird comes to you, welcome him into your life and your arms, as true love comes only once, and for some it never does.” With that she disappeared, leaving Rick alone.

 

_1385 ca. (Ducal Castle)_

 

The birds sang outside of the castle, rejoicing of the sunny day. One of them sat on the windowsill and observed the bedroom with his little black eyes. A blackbird.

Rick looked at it with half open eyes, exhausted after a whole night fighting against his own mind. _Damn you, Andrea. Damn you, and damn your words._ He laid naked on the bed, his legs tangled with the covers. The chilly morning air gave him goosebumps, and his morning erection hurt. _It’s all that stupid peasant’s fault!_ He grunted. The noble could hear the servants outside his room and in the park, walking around and going on with their daily chores, but he’d left specific orders to not enter until he left, so no one would come and disturb him.

After Merle had told him he had seen the ghost, Rick had felt his breathing get difficult. _Didn’t think I’d hear of her anymore..._ He had gone to bed as soon as his duties had allowed, but Rick hadn’t been able to sleep properly; every time he had closed his eyes, his thoughts drifted to an unholy ground and he ended waking up.

His mouth went dry as he imagined once again grabbing that curly hair and taking Merle as a lover. Rick licked his lips. He was glad Lori had already woken up and went away. _What would those locks feel like? Oh, gosh._ Blood rushed to his head, and his lower parts, as Rick imagined pulling Merle’s hair and looking into those beautiful blue eyes as he entered the man. _Would he moan? Scream?_ The nobleman shifted on the bed, grabbing the covers and pretending it was Merle’s curls; his dick started to leak, so he put his hand around it and stroked it, with slow, deliberate motions. The image of Merle sucking his member replaced the feeling of his hand. Rick imagined Merle on his knees in between his legs, licking, kissing, sucking his dick as he looked up with those pretty eyes of him. A grunt escaped Rick’s lips as he stroked faster and faster. He panted as he felt himself getting closer to climax, pressing the head of his penis with his thumb and wishing Merle was there for him. His half-open eyes closed as he came, leaning on the mattress to relax. Rick pursed his lips and took a few long breaths. _I had almost forgotten about what she told me that night..._ The man got up, disgusted at the dirty covers, and went to the basin to wash his heated face. As little droplets of water made trails down his cheeks and chest, Rick looked out of the window, staring at the tiny figures going in and out of the building. One of them caught his eyes, dressed in dark green and fighting with someone in armor. His eyebrows shot up; he could hear Merle’s raspy voice clearly, a sign the peasant was screaming.

“I don’t care what you want! I don’t give a flying fuck about what you think, and sure as Heaven above I won’t do anything you say!” Merle’s arms shot in the air, dropping something on the ground. The nobleman in front of him screamed back.

“How dare you? I’ll make you learn your place, I can assure you of that!” the man hit Merle in the face, making him fall down. Rick’s heartbeat fastened. His body urged him to intervene, but he knew Merle was a member of the lowest class and deserved what happened. Yet, Andrea’s words struck him and seeing Merle hurt pained him. _I would have never thought of Merle being the blackbird that insane spirit was talking about!_ Rick shook his head, still unconvinced. The nobleman hit Merle while the poor man was on the ground, and Rick frowned. _Isn’t that Philip?_ Rick wanted to puke. Of course, on the first day on the job, Merle would pick a fight with the Duke himself. He sighed, damning the ghost under his breath. _Hell and Heaven, why did it have to be a peasant? And why that peasant? What kind of joke is the Lord almighty pulling on me?_ The noble stretched his arms and legs, taking long breaths to calm himself. _I’m not going to fall in love with that... that bumpkin._ Rick sneered in disgust at the mere thought, but what he’d done just a few moments earlier was still fresh in his mind. _Whatever that unholy lady of the evening thinks... I may use him as a concubine or something._ Rick wished he believed himself, but those words seemed fake. The knight snorted. _I am fooling no one... Those blue eyes got me right away._ He opened the heavy wood wardrobe with an angry swing, picking up some random clothes and dressing as fast as he could to get to the stupid peasant.

 

_(Ducal Castle, Garden)_

 

It was already late in the day, and the midday sun shone brightly upon the servants in the park.

Merle sheltered his eyes with his hand. “Daryl, do you think the idiot woke up?” he stared at the window, expecting for the nobleman to make an appearance, then looked at his younger brother. _What would he look like naked?_ Merle grunted. _Idiot. Haven’t you learned to only look at women that way?_ He shook his head, trying to fix the supplies he kept on the shoulder and that he had to be careful not to drop. Yet, he could clearly see the nobleman’s face, those stunning eyes, and the cured beard if he thought about it long enough. _Maybe he doesn’t care. He looked like an angel the other day... Maybe the angels of the Lord don’t care. Yeah, Merle. Sure._

“Don’t really think so, no.” Daryl’s voice brought him back to reality. “And you shouldn’t call him an idiot. Weren’t you the one that told me to accept all of this, years ago?” His younger brother had a load of provisions of his own in his arms and was trying to keep the wooden case from falling on the ground because he had picked it wrong.

“Don’t recall.” Merle pursed his lips. _I do. Way too well. But that was before all of this happened._ He’d woken that morning with the feeling his life was going to change drastically from now on. Merle grunted at the thought. Like everyone, he had heard of the story of that girl that fell in love with the former Duke’s son and ended up in the castle dungeon after being seduced. She’d died there. _Hell, I didn’t expect to see her damn ghost! What the hell did she want from me anyway?_ He kept walking, ignoring his brother calling him, and ended up hitting someone. “Oh, sorry!”

“Excuse me?” the nobleman frowned at him. He wore light, shiny armor that highlighted his slender yet strong form. “Are you new here, you stupid cumberworld?”

Merle spat on the ground. “What’d you call me?” he felt blood go to his head. “Ye want a fight? Ye think that shiny armor makes ye better than me, uh? What, ye think yer God Almighty?”

“I think you need to be taught some manners.” the stranger took off his gloves, ignoring Merle’s challenge as if the man had never spoken; he stood with his back straight, chin up, and arms crossed. His dark blue eyes fixed on Merle. “Kneel.”

“Uh?” the peasant sneered, looking the noble from head to toe. _Could take him down, easy enough._ Merle tapped his fingers on the supplies box, aching to fight.

“I said, I want you to kneel.”

“I don’t care what you want! I don’t give a flying fuck about what you think, and sure as Heaven above I won’t do anything you say!” Merle dropped the box on the ground and raised his arms in frustration. He knew he couldn’t hit the man, or he’d get in trouble not only with Rick, but with the Duke as well. _Whoever this asshole is!_

“How dare you? I’ll make you learn your place, I can assure you of that!” Merle didn’t see the punch directed his way, and he found himself on the ground before he could say anything. He heard Daryl call out to him, but a guard stopped him before he reached Merle. The stranger rammed him in the ribs, and after a stronger hit Merle lost consciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like it? No? Why? Please comment and/or leave kudos, much appreciated!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of backstory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. I wanted this chapter to be like the others, a bit of past and a bit of present. But the past took over everything else and it ended up being too long. If I had added any present part, it would have been too long compared to the other 3 chapters, and I did not want that.  
> So here it is.
> 
> I thank @cats_udonta here on AO3 for the beta!
> 
> TW for Era-typical homophobia

 

_1350 ca. (somewhere in the village)_

 

The summer sun warmed Merle’s skin, making him sweat under the light working shirt. _Even my damned soul is sweating._ The grass at his feet was yellow and dried, killed by too much heat. Little outbreaks lasted on every green area around. Merle scoffed, using his shirt as a handkerchief to wipe the sweat off his face. That stone-breaking infernal heat had caused quite a few fires around the village, and Merle and the other men had to work until they couldn’t stand on their feet anymore to put an end to it. The combination of too much walking and sweat had blistered Merle's feet. He wiggled his toes, huffing. _But at least I don’t show it like this idiot does._

The young man walking beside him grunted and spit on the ground. Despite being soaked in sweat and having cheeks as red as a tomato, his steps were sure and steady, typical of a nobleman.  “Let’s see if we can find a good hiding place there, you bumpkin whore.” He pointed a narrow alley with his chin, and Merle followed him.

 _Oh, how I’d like to punch you in the face and kick you in the mouth!_ Merle’s muscles ached for action, yet he restrained himself.

Sheltered from the sun by the tall buildings, the two men sighed in pleasure.   
The walls were cracked by the heat, and not a soul was in sight.

Merle’s ears buzzed at the unnatural silence. _Everyone is probably at work or hiding from the damned sun… Yet it’s so weird to not see children outside…_

The smell of fish being cooked reached Merle’s nostrils, and his belly rumbled. Not for the first time that day, the boy wondered when his next meal would be. _God, let this idiot pay me some good money. Daryl needs to eat, damn it._   
Patting his fine, sweat-shroud clothes, the young nobleman nodded in Merle's direction. “It's like Dante’s Inferno, damn my soul!” He took off his vest, patting it to take off some of the dust.   
Merle pursed his lips. _Makin’ sure I know my place, uh? I’m glad I don’t even remember your name._ Sweat and dirt stuck to Merle’s skin and clothes, but he ignored the itching. Irritation rose in his belly, yet he thanked the Almighty for the distraction He had sent his way. _At least let this piece of shit be good at fucking._ He looked into the young man’s eyes, clearing his throat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”   
“Of course you don’t,” the noble rolled his onyx eyes, waving his hand as to calm a rabid dog. “But,” he smirked, “I can definitely show you something that will assure you a reserved spot in there."   
“Oh,” Merle made a fake giggle, tilting his head and trying to control his condescending tone. “I surely can’t wait for it.” He rose his eyebrows, a wide smile forming on his lips.   
“Enough talking now.” The young man grabbed Merle’s arm. Merle fought the urge to beat up the noble as the man pulled him into one of the small passages, which allowed quick access to each side of town.   
“Yer the one still talking,” Merle licked his upper lip, growing irritated by the second. “And ye still need to pay me.”

“Damn you,” the nobleman growled. “You’re a greedy whore, has anyone told you before?” he pushed a sachet into Merle’s hands, an irritated scowl on his face.

Merle weighted the content, making sure it was the agreed sum, then moved his pelvis forward, making friction with the man’s lower parts. “It’s business, don’t they teach you that in your rich homes?”

“Ah,” the man pushed him against the wall, giving him a quick kiss on the lips. “Cocky, aren’t you?”  
_If yer breath isn’t foul as a pig’s shit._ Merle chuckled.   
“What’s so funny, uhm?” the young man grabbed Merle’s face, forcing him more against the wall.   
“Nothing.” Merle felt the cold stone against his neck, relieving him after hours under the sun. Blinking, he bit his lips. He knew his behavior would get him in trouble someday; he knew he had to keep his head bowed to the nobles. Yet he couldn’t bear to do it.   
“Then quiet!” the nobleman squeezed Merle’s neck; Merle moaned, his eyes half-closed, and gave a small nod.   
“Yes, sir.” Merle didn’t think he’d enjoy something of this sort. Yet the dominance shown by the other made him shiver in anticipation. _Here I am, priding myself of being such a free spirit, and ruining everything for someone’s cock..._   
The nobleman put his hands under Merle’s shirt, running them over Merle’s chest and nipples. He kissed Merle’s neck, then bit it gently. “Who knew I’d find such a beauty in the poorest side of the village?” He smirked, as if he’d make a joke, and gently bit Merle’s neck.   
Merle sighed, ignoring the rhetorical question; he untied the man’s pants, getting on his knees. “We need to be quick, my father-”   
As if summoned, Will entered the hidden passage and grabbed the young nobleman by the neck. “What in hell’s deepest flames is happening here?” Merle’s father shoved his victim against the wall. The man gasped as the air got kicked out of his lungs.   
“Stop, please! I can pay!” the nobleman grabbed Will Dixon’s arm. “I beg you! Let me go, I can make you rich!”   
“Yer money will do nothing. You turned my son into a sodomite.” Merle’s father spit in the man’s face.   
“You stupid peasant! I’ll make you die for this!” the man grunted, trying to punch Will. His face was turning pale at the loss of air.

Merle stared at the back of his father’s head. His hair covered his neck, but Merle was sure it was turning red, as every other time the old man got angry. Merle could imagine his father’s grimace.

“No,” Will tsked. “They won’t.” He punched the nobleman a couple of times in the head, and the man’s skull made a wet cracking sound. Merle bent down to puke. After Will made sure the man had nothing he could steal, he turned to face his son.

I knew I’d find you like this, you disgusting bugger.” Merle’s father shook his head, an appalled expression on his thin scarred face

“Dad!” Merle rose to his feet, grabbing Will’s arm to beg him. His body shook in terror, and he couldn’t control it. His last beating was still fresh in his mind “I-It’s not what you think.”

“Shut it, Merle. I couldn’t believe it when yer mother told me...” Will dropped the dead weight on the floor and backhanded his son. He noticed something on the ground and grabbed it. The bag with the money. A terrifying smirk appeared on Will’s face. “Go home, and wait for me. I’ll deal with this myself, and then it’s your turn.”

Merle gulped. His cheek stung where his father had struck him, and he could feel a bruise forming. A single tear rolled down his face when he nodded.

“Yes, father.” Merle crossed his arms around his chest, as if they could protect him, then walked as fast home as he could. _I could flee._ Pursing his lips, he shook his head. _No, he’d manage to find me..._

 

_(Dixon’s home, first periphery)_

 

Merle entered his home, his head bowed. He felt like a criminal walking to the scaffold. _Am I going to survive this day?_ He wished he could vomit. His hands shook as he remembered Will killing the other boy. _Is dad going to do the same to me?_

His mother was sitting on a chair, her elbows on the wooden table and a rosary in her hands; her eyes closed, her mouth moved to form the silent words of the _Ave Maria_. She made no sign of having heard him enter. Merle observed her, how her cheeks were smeared with tears, and how her curly blonde hair, longer than his own, were dirty and knotted.

Merle searched around for Daryl. His little brother was curled on the floor, sound asleep. Sweat attached his straight locks, so similar to their Dad’s, to his little, dirty face. Daryl snored a little, and kicked the air as if having a dream. Merle caressed his dirty hair and kissed his forehead. His little brother stirred in his sleep, so Merle left him alone and addressed his mother instead.

“ _Mamma_ ?” Merle cleared his throat, looking at his mother with his head still bowed. His guts were knotted, and his heart beat faster. _Why did you tell him? How did you even find out?_ He wished he could get angry at her for what she did, but he understood too well. _I’m a disgusting criminal, a sodomite that deserves death..._ Merle ran his hand in between his locks _. Maybe Dad killing me will be for the best._

His mother opened her blue eyes, so similar to his own, and sighed. Her voice was a whisper when she spoke, her French accent thicker than usual. “Merle. I expected you to come back more... bloody.” She got up, widening her arms towards her son. Merle blinked seeing her ripped sleeve, and wondered if his father had hurt her too. Her eyes checked him up for bruises, then she tilted her head and made a small smile. The first smile Merle had seen on her for years.

“I’m sorry, mamma...” Merle closed the space between them and hugged his mother. He felt her breath in between his curls, and he snuggled closer to her.

“I’m sorry, too. Come sit, _mon fils_ , we need to talk while your dad is away.” She motioned to the table, making her elder son sit. “Merle... I know you’re probably angry at me. You probably think I betrayed you, don’t you? But you need to understand.” Adjusting her skirt, she sat next to him.

Merle sighed, waiting for his mother to continue. She pursed her lips and blinked, stressing the clothing of her only good shirt. “When you were born, _Je te détestais_. I was foolish, and, against my better judgment, I...” she looked away, her hands clasped in her lap. When she found her voice again, the words came out as an unstoppable flow: “I had an affair with your father. He was a stranger in my land, hardly spoke my language. We encountered at night. And I got pregnant with you.”

“What does this have to do with any of this, mamma?” Merle stopped her, frowning. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, afraid of what his mother would say next. All he had known before this day was that his Scottish father had met his French mother and they had moved to Italy to have a better life. That never happened. “It doesn’t have any importance!”

“It does. Being pregnant with you. _Ils m’on forcée_ , you know? They forced me to marry your father. And I gave you the fault. _Enfer_ , even your name shows the hate I felt for you.”

At that, Merle’s face fell. “What do you mean?” his heart skipped a beat, and he wondered if he should get up and leave.

“ _Je_ -The devil misguided me. You were the result of sin! The proof of my wrong-doing... And instead of hating myself, I hated you. The result of the temptation of the flesh. Just like a blackbird. _Mon petit merle_...”

Merle rose to his feet, heading for the door. He didn’t care if his father didn’t find him and got angrier, he didn’t want to hear any of this, He shook his head, trying to get his mother’s words out of his head.

“ _Attends_!” Merle’s mother grabbed his arm.

“Why are you telling me this?” Merle growled, turning to face her.

“Because I know it’s my fault.” She made a small smile, and tears streamed down her face. “All these years I raised you, and I’ve come to love you. I know that the sin I committed and that created you... It-I made you vulnerable to the Devil! That’s why your father found you laying with a man as you should’ve with a woman. And that’s why William needs to punish you... To make you repent. To fix my original mistake. _Tu comprends, oui?_ The pain will get the devil out of you.”

It was Merle’s turn to cry. “What are you going to do to me?” He felt the energy leave his body, all the will to fight completely gone.

“I’m sure my prayers and your father’s punishment will get the Devil out of you, _mon fils_.” She caressed his face, a tender expression on her face. “We’ll make it up to you.”

The door busted open, hitting the wall. Will stumbled into the room, his shirt stained with red wine and a trickle of spittle down his chin. His words were slurred, yet Merle managed to make out a “Let’s get it over with” as his father unfastened his belt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like it? No? why?


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Merle and Rick talk about stuff, Caesar struggles to do his duty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I know it's been a while. Honestly speaking, this chapter gave me a lot of issues. I put a lot of work into it, and it took two months to arrive at a good result.  
> It's not how I had planned it, but I guess it's better this way as the story goes slower :)
> 
> As usual, English isn't my first language.  
> I'd like to thank @autumnslioness-dearie and @yondu-gonna-do-about-it for beta-ing this chapter.

_ 1385 ca. (Servants’ quarters, Castel of Corigliano Calabro) _

 

A deep fog clouded Merle’s mind and hid Merle’s thoughts behind a thick wall. He mentally scanned his body for damage; a dull agony reached his brain, his aching limbs pulsing uncomfortably.

_ What’s happening? _ Merle commanded his right arm to move, yet the limb stayed still.  _ By God’s fingers… _

Frowning, he forced himself to think.

The image of his father, belt in hand and a sinister expression on his face, was clear as the day the old man had given him the worst beating of his life.

_ What do you want? Why are you coming here after all these years? _ Merle grunted, pressing his lips together.  _ Leave me alone! _

Will Dixon’s face disappeared, replaced by the burn of leather smacking against tender skin. Cuts and bruises spreading fire in his body day after day, reminding him of his mistake, as he worked to bring food back home.

 

_ Tu comprends, oui? The pain will get the devil out of you. _

 

_ Oh, mamma. You were wrong. So wrong... _ Tears pricked in Merle’s eyes. He bit his bottom lip and tasted blood in his mouth. Exhaling with his nose, he forced his closed eyes  even more shut to stop the tears from falling.  _ Why are you coming to haunt me now, you damned souls? _

“Bastard,” his father’s mocking voice whispered in his mind, echoing all around Merle. “You know why.”

_ No! _

Broken images passed in front of Merle, unable to stop them.

Rick’s face, crowned by a halo made of snowflakes like the day they met.  _ An angel. _

Will Dixon’s sneer, as he punched Merle, showing pointy and ruined teeth that made him look like the Devil.

_ Go to hell! _ A single tear fell down Merle’s face, as dread filled his chest.

_ Oh, if only you weren’t dead. I’d kill you again, father. _

Will’s face disappeared, substituted by the nobleman’s curious expression as he looked at Merle after their fight. Rick’s lean neck was tilted as he looked down at Merle laying on the ground while trying to understand what the hell Merle was doing in the passage. 

Dark eyes that bore into his soul.

Rick faded away.

Emptiness spread inside and around Merle. His heart pounded in his ears.

His father’s grimace. 

Merle’s flesh tearing apart after each strike Will inflicted him. 

Blood.

_ Stop- stop it! _ Merle growled. He turned over on the bed, again in possession of his body.

 

“ _ Let’s get it over with.” _

 

_ No! I’m sorry! Damn your soul, I learned my lesson! _

Merle’s father turned into a blonde woman with a disappointed expression on her face. She shook her head.

 

“ _ Wake up, Merle. Your destiny isn’t fulfilled yet. _ ”

 

The woman blew on him, her breath as freezing as the Cocytus.

Merle jerked awake, sitting up in between the raggedy covers. Pain spread in every inch of his body, his insides burning with each breath he took.

A burning sensation spread in his right hip, and Merle reached for it with a grunt. Gently, his fingers patted the offended flesh and found a rough cloth covering it.

“By Christ’s bones...” Merle mumbled, gritting his teeth. He dared to look and found his hand covered in blood.

His breath quickened, ragged intakes of air that made his chest hurt.

“God’s Death, what happened?” Merle heard his heart as it beat frantically, hitting his ribcage painfully.

Flashes of what happened with the nobleman, the insults and the beating, assaulted his mind, filling his vision with the red of spilled blood and the black of lost consciousness. “Ah, zounds...”

Illuminated by the bright light of a midday sun, the beds around his own stood empty. He blinked in confusion as he recognized the servant quarters.

The sound of people working outside reached his ears.

_ Why am I here and not doing my duty? _ Merle narrowed his eyes as he took his head in his hands.  _ Why can’t I remember anything? _

“Ah, damn my existence...” He snuffled, trying to make a sense of the things his mind had made him see.

_ Even in death, the bastard doesn’t leave me alone... _

Merle gulped as he recalled his father’s face. He pulled his knees up with a grunt, then rested his arms on them as he grabbed his wrist. As he caressed it with his thumb, his mind came back to Rick, redrawing his features in front of him.

_ I guess my father is right after all. I cannot let my... feelings... blind me. Not this time. _ Merle bit the inside of his bottom lip, then sighed.

_ The woman, though... _ Merle pursed his lips and frowned.  _ I don’t know who she is, do I? _ He looked down, trying to make out her face.  _ Is it possible? Was she- The ghost! _ He widened his eyes, his heartbeat running wild.

Someone behind him cleared his throat, then knocked against a hard surface.

Jumping on the bed, Merle turned towards the origin of the sound and found Rick standing against the doorframe, his arms crossed in front of his chest. His features were twisted into a grimace.   
“So, you’re finally awake.”    
“Sir...” Merle bowed. The movement sent jolts of pain to his hip and made the cloth move from the wound; a grunt escaped Merle’s lips as he fell down the bed, blood trailing down his body.   
“Careful,” Rick took Merle in his arms, putting his body between him and the ground and placing his hand behind Merle’s head.   
Merle blinked, staring at the nobleman. Dark brown eyes looked back, something soft Merle couldn’t really place hidden in their dept.    
They leaned into each other, their lips barely touching. Merle heard Rick’s heartbeat against his skin. 

A blink of an eye and they kissed, soft lips against Merle’s bitten ones.   
“I-” Rick broke away, shaking his head. “No-” he cleared his throat, getting up. 

He helped Merle back in between the covers and stepped back, gazing out of the window with a frown.   
What is this? Merle found himself longing to be held by the other man, and he bit down on his lip to make the thought go away. Wasn’t the nightmare enough, you fool?    
His heart clenched in his chest. He coughed, looking at the space between him and Rick.   
“What happened?” He twisted the rat-eaten cover in between his fingers, fixing on the movement.

“What happened?” Rick snorted. “What happened,” he paced the room, his arms clasped behind his back, “is that you are the most idiotic person I ever met, Merle Dixon! What did you think you were doing?”

Merle sat on his ratty bed, his head bowed and his elbows on his thighs. _ If only I knew...  _ He kept his mouth shut, not knowing what to say.

“Answer, you fool!” Rick sat on a nearby chair and covered his face with his hands, shaking his head.

“I-” Merle shuttered. “I am sorry.”

_ Why did I even say that? _ He licked his lips, not making eye contact with the other man. _ It’s not like he cares! _

“I don’t care if you are sorry!” Rick shouted, “Do you know how long you’ve been unconscious?”

Merle rose his gaze and met Rick’s eyes, which fixed in his own.

Rick’s jaw clenched, as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t. The nobleman clenched his fingers.

“No, my Lord.” Merle sighed. “I don’t know.”

“Two days. You- I had-” Rick closed his eyes, and when he opened them again they were hard as ice. “I won’t tolerate this behaviour from the people subjected to me. Am I clear?”

“Yes, my Lord.” Merle had the urge to grunt, yet stopped himself.

“You picked a fight with the Duke himself, Merle.” Rick dropped his shoulders, defeated. “I had a lot of problems protecting you. I-”

“I am sorry I’m creating so many problems,” Merle looked up, then lowered his eyes back to Rick. “If the Duke wants to punish me-”

“No. I solved that problem, Merle.” Rick got up and headed for the door. He whispered something that to Merle’s ears sounded like “But my heart won’t last long if you keep behaving like this,” and walked away.

 

Hidden to human eyes, the ghost that was once the girl named Andrea smiled at the interaction between the two men.

“Soon, everything will be clear.”

  
  
  


_ (Cosenza’s periphery) _

 

_ Jesus’ balls. _

Pressing his legs against the horse’s sides, Caesar led the animal between the snow-covered pines as his eyes darted around in search of the hidden passage.

Illuminated by the setting sun, the melting snow shined like diamonds on the frozen grass.

Caesar tilted his head. His ears whistled in the unnatural silence.

“Not even the damned birds are as stupid as this man...” he whispered, biting his bottom lip. He ruffled the animal’s white mane, scratching in between its ears. “I know you don’t like this place either, Whitey.”

_ Couldn’t that fool of a Baron chose a better place?  _ Caesar coughed, bending in half.  _ Damn him, damn his deceased relatives and damn his living ones as well! _

The chilly breeze caressed Caesar’s face, making him sneeze; he dried his running nose with the back of his hand and blinked a few times.

“Only a cold was missing from this God’s damned day!” Caesar clenched his fingers around the reins, his knuckles turning white as his horse’s mane.

Whitey walked another few feet, his steps slow and careful.

“Oh-oh,” Caesar pulled the reins, then pat the horse on the neck. He breathed a few times, trying to control his tone as he talked to the horse. “Good job, Whitey. You deserve some good rest after two days of travel at this speed.”

Whitey’s breath condensed in front of them, mixing with Caesar’s own.

_ What do they even need to talk about?  _ Caesar covered his face with a cloth, hoping to keep the cold at bay.

“You know what, Whitey? This whole thing stinks as terribly as a fish.”

The beast bit the air, shaking its head as if sensing Caesar’s sour mood. It stepped on one of the frozen puddles scattered around and the thin ice under it broke. Caesar’s scream and the animal’s neigh mixed as the horse knelt, its hoof trapped in the water.

“Damn it!” Caesar jumped out of the saddle and pulled the reins to help Whitey out, his muscles burning.

The horse pulled back, kicking with his hind legs and whinnying. It bit the reins, chewing on the leather.

“Stop fighting me! I’m trying to help you,” Caesar pulled once again, yet the beast kept still. “Listen. I know it was a harsh travel. But if you get out, you can rest. Or, I can leave you here!”

Whitey rolled its black eyes with a huff and, when Caesar grabbed its foot, the animal let him work.

“I can’t believe I’m now reasoning with a horse...” Caesar mumbled. “The sickness must be really getting to my brain.”

With a final push, the horse’s foot got free and Whitey nuzzled his owner, pushing him.

“Idiot...” Caesar smirked. “Now, let’s do what we came here for and go back home.”

Caesar and Whitey walked side by side, accompanied by the sloppy sound of their steps against the wet ground.

“Should be close...” Caesar narrowed his eyes, searching around. “Ah, there it is!”

A narrow passage stood at the base of a small hill a few feet away, branches of ivy and other plants crowning it.

With careful steps, Caesar surpassed it as he searched for the stable.

“The son of a whore said it was here... I swear if I have to leave my horse in the open, there is no nobility status that will help you, Baron.” He circled the hill, finding a small wood construction on the opposite side.

“There,” Caesar entered with Whitey, and found a pole where he knotted the reins.

A full manger and watering place stood close.

The horse blinked t him, nipping at his shirt.

“Yes, I know. It’s stupid.” Caesar sighed. “This whole thing is stupid. But I have to leave you here and bring the letter to the Baron, or the Duke will have my skin...” He took the sealed envelope from the haversack. His fingers trailed the sealing wax; he felt the urge to break it and read what was inside.

“No, I can’t do that...” Caesar got out, closing the door behind him as to not let wolves enter. His heart heavy, he went back to the entrance.

Eyeing his surroundings to make sure of not being seen, he entered the passage and found himself in a dark corridor he couldn’t see the end of. The light from outside only illuminated a few feet of ground, where an extinguished candle and a linchpin stood.

_ I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all.  _ Caesar sighed, then lightened the candle and walked in the direction of the Baron’s estate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think of it?

**Author's Note:**

> I enjoyed writing this so much! Did you like it? Yes? No? Why? I'll give you cookies if you talk to me and leave kudos :)
> 
> Also, I have opened requests: http://thereadingpal.tumblr.com/post/164439418475/my-works#notes :)


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